


What We Make For Ourselves

by ardentaislinn



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, F/M, Healing, Shower Sex, Slight Femdom, Soulmates Gone Wrong, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you meet your soulmate, but it was too late? You were already too fucked up beyond repair?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Make For Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



_What happens when you meet your soulmate, but it was too late? You were already too fucked up beyond repair?_

It was a question that Furiosa found herself pondering over more and more lately.

The bright glow on her wrist every time Max was in the vicinity - and the answering flare on his - told her all she needed to know about what fate expected of her. But that was an old fate. As out of date as the cars they drove every day.

Too much had happened since they’d been birthed into this world. They had both been chewed up and spat out by their circumstances; broken into tiny pieces and welded back together crooked.

No one quite understood how fate worked. But everyone agreed that one’s soulmate was chosen for them at birth. There were too many stories of younglings less than a week old with glowing wrists to discount it.

How far fate planned ahead was anyone’s guess.

Though, given how young Furiosa was when her future and that possible version of herself were demolished, she suspected it wasn’t much.

Which left her with the problem of Max. She knew that both of them were no longer capable of being normal enough to make a true go at the life partners thing. Life had destroyed too much of them for that.

Yet still he came, and he went, and came back again. She’d always know when he was on his way home. Her wrist would start to tingle a few hours in advance. She’d force herself not to react - not to stand on the walls and wait for him. The citizens of the citadel were already too curious about her glow. No need to draw any more attention to it.

The time between his visits was growing shorter. Eight months became six, became three. Furiosa was sure that this last time it had barely been two. The time he stayed was proportionally longer, too.

There was an undeniable a part of her that was thrilled. But it ultimately worried her more than pleased her.  Was he being drawn here against his will? Could the mark influence someone so profoundly?

Max was not the type of man to stay. He was a wanderer of the old kind. So why did he keep coming back?

And why did he not seek her out when he did?

\---

She was supervising the clearing of the old junkyard - a place of twisting metal and blood-coloured rust. Old cars and machines, so beaten and broken they couldn’t even be scavenged for parts, had been abandoned there for years, stacked on top of and crushed into each other. Furiosa found it a more comforting place than most.

A familiar prickling warmth gathered in her wrist.

She ignored it. One of the women would find her when it was time.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Capable came running, her flaming hair streaming behind her.

“He’s back,” she panted.

Furiosa didn’t reply. Didn’t acknowledge that she already knew, though Capable probably suspected.

“He’s waiting for you,” Capable clarified. “He wants to know if he can stay.”

It was a strange routine they had. In the past, she had offered to keep a room aside for Max, but he had point blank refused. He never insisted he wasn’t coming back, but he never claimed he wanted to stay. Instead, he would petition for respite each time, like all the other strangers that arrived on her doorstep.

She made her way out of the hot sun, scraping off the dust that had mingled with her sweat as best she could. The cool air of the tunnels was almost a shock to her lungs.

Max was waiting for her inside the entrance.

He was filthy from the road. His clothes were torn, covered in grime. She glanced into his eyes, expecting to see the feral flare that often took days to abate after his time travelling. But his gaze was clear and steady as he looked at her.

There was a calmness to him that was as rare as the rains. The restlessness in him seemed to have been temporarily settled.

Heat prickled down her spine, spreading through her limbs and pooling low in her gut. Her physical reaction to him was as visceral as ever. His eyes dilated slightly, and Furiosa wondered if he could sense the change in her.

“Hello,” she murmured. She tried to mute her pleasure at seeing him.

He grunted in reply, and Furiosa was reminded that no matter how much he had appeared to have changed, he was still the same Max. Still broken.

Her heart sank.

Not that she'd got her hopes up. She was too smart for that.

“Do you have room?” he asked.

His voice was rough, unused.

“Always,” she replied as casually as she could manage.

He nodded, and she led him down a series of tunnels to the wing in which she stayed in. He never mentioned that she always housed him close to her. Neither did Furiosa.

She sensed him moving behind her, the string that forever linked them together pulled taut with awareness.

Furiosa didn't know whether the feeling - the constant awareness of his presence and the desire to have him close - was a product of their soulmate bond or a real and natural feeling. She only knew that it had begun the minute she had locked eyes with Max tied to the front of that car, and that it flickered to life each time they were together. And sometimes even when they weren't.

“Will you be staying long?” she asked, unable to help herself.

Another grunt. Furiosa thought that would be all the answer she’d get, but he surprised her.

“It depends,” he told her.

She swung around to look at him. He stopped, an inch away from running into her. He didn’t move back. Neither did she.

Their breaths mingled. Their gazes locked. Their equal height meant that neither had to look down on the other. Warmth spread through her at the hot look in his eyes. It was wild, barely leashed. And Furiosa couldn’t help but imagine what might happen if he let that control snap.

Would he take her, fast and rough? Or would he have enough control to at least try to take it slow? She admitted to herself that she wouldn’t mind it either way.

Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face - or perhaps it was that uncanny sense again - because his breathing hitched and sped up. Some of the slow-burning fire in his gaze flared to life, slipping from his control.

The mark on her wrist grew equally hot at his close proximity, practically burning her skin. It tempted her as much as it reminded her. This pull between them wasn’t real. And even if it was, acting on it would be like putting two incompatible and irreparable parts together. You’d just end up with a mess of a vehicle that wouldn’t even run.

“Depends on what?” she asked, deliberately breaking the tension winding between them.

The fires once again banked in Max’s eyes, but he didn’t move away.

He waited a breath before answering. “The usual things,” he muttered.

Furiosa was the one to grunt at that, unsure how to reply.

She turned and led Max down the tunnel. Furiosa chose a room a few doors down from hers. She didn’t - couldn’t - stay in Immortan Joe’s old rooms, so had chosen a room just like all the others along the tunnels. The only true concession to her de facto status as leader was that she was the first to have a door installed on her room. They were slowly replacing the tattered curtains for the other citizens, but she couldn’t sleep without a lock between her and the outside world.

“Stay as long as you like,” she told him.

“I will,” he replied. Hesitating for just a moment, he added, “Thanks.”

She left him to get settled, heading straight for the shower room to wash the grime from her skin and cool her aching nerves.

\---

The communal showers had been installed Furiosa’s insistence, replacing the old tubs that seated four people at a time. There was too much dust and dirt for people to bathe in the large barrels – they’d just be stewing on their own filth.

Instead, the showers rinsed away the muck and sweat from the day’s labour and then the water was collected to distribute over the greenery growing below.

The communal showers near Furiosa were almost always nearly empty, but by circumstance and not design. Though she knew that had she asked for privacy it would be granted without complaint. Yet Furiosa had no modesty when it came to her body – it was a tool like any other.

However, most people preferred to stay away from her wing. They still liked the order that a hierarchy brought, though none would deny that they preferred Furiosa’s more benevolent leadership. No matter how she tried, Furiosa could not convince people to treat her as one of them. She was their leader, not their friend, or fellow toiler.

It was not a life she would have chosen for herself, but it was the life she was living. Currently, at least.

She stripped bare, including the metal attachment that replaced her arm, and pulled the lever. Lukewarm water spilled from the channel above, smacking her clear in the chest before spilling down the hole cut in the floor. She would have liked the water to be cooler, but she knew it had to travel through sun-warmed pipes and outdoor storage containers.

She picked up the soap. Water sluiced over her skin, washing the day’s labour from her skin. But it did nothing to ease the frustrated heat roiling inside her.

Max was close, and her body wanted him. Badly.

The water slid down her naked torso. The steady stream caused a pleasant friction against her nipples. Furiosa, already heated from her encounter with Max, could feel her body react to the touch of the water.

She ran her hand over her stomach, playing with the flow of the water and the slickness against her skin. She moved her hand up in slow, circular movements. With each sweep, it would come closer to its goal. Her fingers brushed the underside of her breast, skimming over the soft skin.

She cupped her breast, weighing it for a moment, before moving to the other. Impatient, she focused on a puckered nipple. Tugging it lightly, then with more enthusiasm, she revelled in the answering pull she felt low in her core. But, it still wasn’t quite enough.

She slipped her hand back down, over her stomach, to plunge between her legs. The steady thrum of her heartbeat in her ears was loud as she teased her clit. She spread her legs a little more, allowing herself more access.

Her breath was coming faster now. Heat burned through her limbs. Her vision shut down as she focused on her movements and the pleasure they were creating.

Her mind conjured the possibility that it was Max’s hand between her legs. His calloused fingers could be moving over her, plunging into her. He’d have a second hand that could play with her breasts. His mouth would kiss and lick and play with her all over.

But was she imagining the real Max? Or the one that might have been, had they not been screwed over by circumstance?

Banishing the thought for the moment, Furiosa dipped her fingers into her channel, her thumb still swirling around her clit. She was close. Her skin was tightening as tension pulled taut within her – achingly close to breaking.

Soft sounds escaped her lips, almost panting.

She was so lost in the sensations – the heat and the friction – that it took her a minute to distinguish the growing tingle in her wrist from the rest of the feelings swirling within her.

She looked down. Sure enough, the glow on her wrist was brighter, intense.

Was Max near? Or had her thoughts of him at such a moment caused the mark to react as if he was?

Just the thought of him nearby, watching her, ratcheted up the pleasure coursing through her body. Did he like what he saw? Her skin lit on fire where she imagined his eyes might roam. The glow grew stronger, and she imagined him creeping closer, wanting her as she wanted him.

She was unbearably slick, her body demanding release.

So, she gave it. A few extra flicks of her thumb and she was coming. Hard. She cried out. Her head fell back with pleasure as she contracted around her fingers. She kept her thumb moving against her clit, milking the orgasm for as long as she could.

She collapsed against the wall of the shower, barely able to hold herself upright.

“Max?” she asked, her low voice sounding loud, even above the fall of the shower water. She really should turn that off. It was a waste.

Silence. Then, Max slowly shuffled into view. His head was dipped down, but his eyes were on her. Hot. Wanting.

He stopped at the edge of the shower’s fall, droplets splattering his boots. The water coursed between them, obscuring half of him.

His gaze travelled over her naked body. Her skin, which had been cooling after her release, instantly warmed up again; her body reacting to his real gaze even more than it had to his imaginary one.

He was still clothed, but Furiosa eyed him in return. He was not unaffected by her nudity nor her show. His solid, impressive erection was visible beneath his trousers.

Their eyes locked. This was it. They could no longer ignore the attraction between them. The marks and what they might mean. What might happen. Their carefully built routine of unsaid thoughts and unacted desires was crumbling around them.

It wasn’t pain, or anger, or fear that swelled within her now. Any of the emotions she may have expected when this inevitable moment came.

It was relief.

It was no longer an impending possibility, hanging over her. It was reality. She saw in his eyes that he knew it, too.

She took a deep breath. “I was thinking of you,” she told him.

His eyes flared with need, but he didn’t step closer.

“Come here,” she said, gesturing him closer. He stepped straight ahead, into the stream of water, his eyes steadily on hers. He didn’t flinch as the water hit him, drenching his filthy clothes. Just stood there. Watching her. Waiting for something.

Her permission?

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered. Max immediately began stripping down. His jacket off first. His overshirt. Boots.

When he was down to his trousers and a rough shirt made of some indistinguishable material, Furiosa spoke again.

“Slowly now.”

His eyes settled on hers. His breath visibly quickened as he slowly slid his trousers down his legs. He watched her watch him, his eyes dilating in pleasure.

He drew his shirt over his head and abandoned it with the other items. He stood before her, completely nude, unashamed, and not as unclean as she might have reasonably expected. He didn’t move, just waited for her next instruction. She wondered how far he’d trust her.

Her gaze landed on his cock. It swelled even more at her appreciative gaze. Her core clenched, wanting it inside her.

Still, he’d come here to get clean. She wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of that.

She picked up the soap from where she’d dropped it sometime during her solo session. Stepping forward, she placed her hand on his chest, the soap between their skin. She began to rub it over him, slowly lathering the soap against his skin.

Her fingers didn’t touch him. He stood patiently, letting her do as she liked. Slowly, the grime of the outdoors washed away.

Anticipation built; within her, between them. It wove a sexual spell in that shower unlike anything Furiosa had seen or experienced. It was…tender. Intimate.

“…touch you?” Max’s low rumble pierced her musings. She didn’t know whether he’d actually voiced the full question, or if he used the minimum words to get the point across. Still, she understood.

She nodded, and Max’s hand settled against her chest, an echo of what she’d done to him moments before. Her breath caught. Her focus was torn between his touch and her own ministrations.

He flicked her nipple. Heat pooled low in her gut. His rough hands splayed over her ribs, running up and down her sides. Glazed fascination entered his eyes as he touched her. She wondered how long it had been since he had touched and been touched in such a gentle, personal way. Years, at least, same as for her. She’d forgotten what it could be like.

Furiosa stepped forward, closer to Max until they were less than an inch apart. His fingers tightened on her ribs, digging in for a split second before loosening. He swayed forward for a second, as if drawn to her, unable to resist. But he stopped himself a whisper away from her lips. His breath puffed out, caressing her lips and cheek. His eyes burned as he stared into hers.

She closed the gap between them, pressing her lips against his. It was soft at first. Not hesitant, but as if they were revelling in this first taste of each other. Savouring the moment.

It didn’t last long.

The dam broke. She let the soap slip from her fingers and slid her hand around the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she hauled him even closer, deepening the kiss.

Their tongues and teeth clashed. Her breasts rubbed against his lightly haired chest, the friction only increasing her agitation. She was hot all over, wanting – _needing_ – him.

She nipped his lower lip. He groaned, low and deep. It rumbled through her.

She locked her knees, her legs feeling weak with desire. His every touch as he skimmed his hands over her body caused deep thrills to course through her. She was overwhelmed by the sensations, her mind focused solely on what was happening between them.

Furiosa slid her hand between them, gathering the remaining soap before grasping his cock. The sound he made was almost inhuman. Never the most verbose man, he seemed to have lost the last of his ability to speak.

She squeezed, then began working his shaft. She pulled back from the kiss so she could see his face. His calloused fingers dug into her arse, keeping her close. His eyes were wild, nearly rolling back into his head as she pumped him.

He gripped her wrist, stilling her. She looked down. Their marks pulsed, so close to each other. Furiosa was fascinated by the dual glow.

“Inside,” Max panted. Furiosa understood. She stepped back until she was pressed against the uneven wall of the shower. She gestured, and Max followed her, stepping between her legs. He didn’t enter her right away. Instead, he rubbed two fingers against her clit in the exact way she liked. She gasped as she realised that he must have been paying attention earlier when he was watching her. Learning her.

The thought made her unbearably hot.

He watched her face as he worked her, reading her pleasure. He dipped a finger inside of her, testing her readiness. She must have been wet enough, because he immediately added another finger, continuing his play against her clit.

Furiosa held on to his shoulder, not sure that she could stay upright without his steadying body pressed against her. The pleasure was too acute.

Already primed, Furiosa came hard and fast, contracting around his fingers. He grunted his satisfaction as he continued to work her, drawing out her pleasure.

She took a breath, and another; trying to recover. But Max was impatient. He lifted one of her legs around his hip, then the other, pressing her back against the wall with his body.

Then, and only then, did he guide his cock to her entrance. He hesitated, looking into her eyes for final permission.

“Please, yes,” she managed to gasp out. It was all he needed.

He plunged into her.

Furiosa let out a cry as the unexpected pleasure ripped through her. Max immediately stilled, his whole body trembling with the effort.

“Don’t stop,” she gritted out. Max took it like the order it was.

He braced his hands against the wall behind her and flexed his hips, pumping into her. He was relentless, driving into her over and over. She cried out each time, grinding herself down on him.

Sweat beaded his brow. His jaw was clenched tight as he stared at her, his pupils dilating. Determination hardened his face further with each thrust.

That familiar tension built within her again. Her skin prickled with heat. She was close.

Not close enough for Max, apparently. He left one hand on the wall to brace himself as he continued to hammer into her. With the other, he slipped it between them, caressing her swollen clit.

It was enough to send her over the edge a third time. Fire raced through her veins, razing everything in its path until she was spent and sated.

She was vaguely aware of Max’s roar as he pumped into her, letting loose his control as he orgasmed harshly. With a few last thrusts, he, too, came in a heated rush.

They disentangled themselves and slid to the wet floor of the bathroom, neither able to stand. It took Furiosa a few moments to come back to herself.

She turned her head. Max was staring at her, his eyes dark and wary. Emotions spun through her head like a rotor, too fast for her to grasp.

She couldn’t think of what to say, how to react. How did this change this between them? Sex didn’t mean a relationship, she knew. But what would Max expect?

Rather than ask any of the perfectly reasonable questions that popped into her mind, Furiosa blurted out something completely different.

“Are you alright?”

Max’s brows tugged down in a frown. He hesitated, then grunted and gave a single nod of his head.

Furiosa nodded in return, then sat up. The overwhelming need to leave, to flee, came upon her. She had to think. To process.

She stood up and silently gathered her things. Not looking at Max, but not moving too fast. Right before she walked out of the room, she glanced back at Max. He was still sitting where she’d left him, looking shell-shocked.

Unsure what to say, Furiosa walked out, leaving him there.

\---

Everything and nothing had changed.

Now that she and Max had finally given in to the attraction between them, she was more aware of him than ever. No longer did just the mark on her arm glow, but her whole body lit up like headlights in a desert night when it sensed him.

She still hummed with pleasure at the thought of what they’d done together. The sex, she couldn’t deny, was better than she’d ever imagined. And she’d finally admitted to herself that she had imagined it on many occasions.

Yet, at the same time, she knew that the conclusions she had drawn before their sexual encounter had been sound. The two of them were incapable of having a relationship. Between them, they lacked trust, communication skills, and sanity. What they were left with was not the stuff of anything other than a wary partnership.

But she still wanted him, and she sensed that he wanted her, too. Max watched her any time he was in the same vicinity. In normal circumstances, such regard would just piss her off. But with Max? She felt her body heat with every brush of his gaze.

Two days later and they could ignore it no longer. Furiosa didn’t know the outcome, but she knew they had to do their best to communicate about what the future might hold.

She went to him late at night when the rest of the citizens were asleep.

He opened the door before she even knocked. Either he’d been waiting for her, or he’d been paying attention to the mark on his wrist. Furiosa didn’t know which was more disconcerting.

Intensity radiated from him as he stepped aside to let her pass. The door clanged shut, sounding loud in the silence.

She hesitated a moment, looking around his room. It was even more stark than hers. She’d had time to build up some personal items and mementos during her time in the citadel. The only thing that passed for something personal in Max’s room was a twisted hunk of metal that Furiosa thought she recognised from Max’s old Interceptor. He must have found the wreckage, but been unable to salvage it.

That small piece of humanity – of connection – gave Furiosa the impetus she needed to turn to him.

“Max…what happened the other day…” His eyes narrowed. Furiosa swallowed. “I don’t know what to do about you,” she finished.

“What would you like to do?”

It was not the question she’d been expecting. “We can’t be a couple. Not like people want. Not like…”

She stopped herself. He waited. She still hadn’t answered his question.

“I want to have sex with you. Sex is simple.”

“Sex.” It was half statement, half question.

“Yes, like we-“

He shook his head sharply, cutting off his words. Good, he hadn’t needed her to clarify. She was never quite sure with him.

“What would you like?” she asked him in return.

Max thought about that for a moment.

“You,” he answered simply.

Furiosa’s gut clenched at his words and her whole body flooded with heat. She hauled him towards her with her hand at the back of his neck and kissed him with a fiery urgency.

In this, at least, they could communicate.

\---

They built up a routine.

If Furiosa whispered a few words in Max’s ears asking him to come to her later, he would show up without fail. Otherwise, Furiosa went to him.

Some nights it was about the mindless pleasure. Some, about the comfort.

Each time was a revelation. She’d learn something new about Max every time they were together.

He wasn’t a soft man, but he was capable of softness. When they were recovering from a bout of sex, he’d often run his fingers over the skin of hers that he could reach. Learning her. Seemingly fascinated by the feel of her.

He wasn’t a dumb man, either. Occasionally after a particularly hard day, Furiosa found herself unloading her frustrations on him. He would listen patiently as they lay there, entwined and naked. Better yet, he understood. She could see it in his eyes, even if he didn’t say a word.

It wasn’t all good. She also learned that his mind sometimes went to dark places that she couldn’t follow, and he couldn’t always concentrate as much as he’d like.

But mostly, Max seemed content, which is not something that she’d ever sensed in him before. She’d joke that the sex was doing him good, and he’d just smile at her with a softness in his eyes.

They stayed longer together each night, talking or drifting in and out of sleep. If he was in her room, he’d always wait for her signal before leaving. When she was in his, he never gave any hint that he wanted her to leave.

She always left before dawn regardless.

\---

They were laying together once again, in her room this time.

The faint scent of sweat and sex still hung in the air, but Furiosa was too drained to care. Her head was pillowed on his chest, her fingers drawing lazy patterns through the crisp hairs. Max caught her hand, entwining their fingers together so that their soulmate marks brushed against each other.

“What do you think would have happened if it had been my other hand that had been cut off?”

He glanced at her curiously. She ploughed on.

“I mean, do you think that I’d still recognise you? Feel you?” It was the first time she had ever touched upon their marks, and the truth of what they meant.

“Yes,” Max said.

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t just feel you with the mark. I feel you with everything in me. I don’t need it to know.”

Her breath caught, her heart pounded deep and hard.

“You believe that we’re soulmates? For real?” Her voice sounded thin to her own ears.

“You doubt?” His frown was fierce.

“I…but we are both so broken.” It sounded weak now, an excuse unable to withstand the force of fate.

His voice was rough. “We’re the same kind of broken.”

The simple statement pushed all the breath from her lungs.

He was right, of course. The world had battered and bruised them. It had torn them apart and put them back together again wrong.  It had taken from them and given nothing back but harshness and heartache.

But through endurance had come strength and a will to survive. An understanding of the other that no one else would have.

It had also given them each other. Maybe fate’s eye was cast longer than they thought. Maybe she planned far enough ahead that she’d know Max and Furiosa would find each other at the right moment. And need each other past that.

She pressed their marks closer together, watching the flare of light as they touched again.

“Max,” she began. She took a deep breath. “Will you be staying long?”

A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. He knew what she was really asking.

“I will.”

Furiosa stayed well past dawn.


End file.
